


Clan Fett

by Imaninja41



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Mandalorian Culture, Original Character centric, Slavery, War, eventually, mostly just me living out my fantasies of being boba's kid and din's girlfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27502120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaninja41/pseuds/Imaninja41
Summary: Boba and Leia had three kids and this is my fluffy but still violent fic about their odd ball force sensitive/Mandalorian family and their shenanigans. Mostly centering around their middle child, but touches on all of the kids and their journey of coming to terms with who they are and the path their life will take. Being a force sensitive among Mandalorians isn't exactly a cushy upbringing.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Leia Organa, Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. Family Dinner, Minus One

**Author's Note:**

> Boba and Leia got together, married and had three kids after Leia dumped Han Fuck Boy Solo. Boba is a great dad, if a bit rough around the edges. Uncle Luke pops in every now and then with a quick, "Hey, anyone want Jedi training?" Before Boba runs him off with blaster fire.

“Does Buir know you took his rifle?”

Jaing looked up at her younger brother, Rojee, seeing a sly grin on his face, framed by dirty blonde hair, topped with a pair of green eyes, shining with mischief. Jaing, having been caught red handed with her father’s prized rifle that she was forbidden from even touching when he wasn’t home, knew there were perhaps three ways this could go. She could let Rojee blackmail her into giving him something he wanted to buy his silence. He’d likely want his chores done for a while, or maybe some credits for candy or other treats most ten year old boys wanted. She could wave Rojee off and risk him tattling to their Buir, which would likely result in her being banned from touching any rifles or blasters in the house for awhile, and likely being forced to run laps in the forest until she was exhausted enough for their father to be satisfied. Or…

“Does he know you snuck out with Dael and Nuurt last week?” She countered, her tone sickly sweet, like honey used to lure an insect to its death.

Rojee frowned, realizing his con had fallen flat, and he hadn’t been as sneaky as he thought he was when he snuck out to have fun with his friends. “How did you know?”

“Your window squeaks.” Jaing said flatly. “Use some oil on it if you plan to sneak out again anytime soon.”

Rojee takes her advice, rushing off to fix his flawed means of escape on boring nights, and Jaing hung her father’s rifle back on it’s hooks over his workbench. Normally, she would have just asked her father to let her indulge in some target practice, but she knew he was too busy for that lately. With her older brother, Bail, now living on Ahch-To full time for his Jedi training, and the yearly festival in only a few days, coupled with her mother’s politician work on Tatooine, he would have no time to run off with her into the woods and guide her through more sniper lessons. So, she had taken it without permission, and then brought it back to her father’s workshop to clean it before hanging it up.

She had just finished cleaning it when Rojee had caught her. Deciding that her threat to her younger brother was ample enough to let her relax, she took off to the refresher to clean herself thoroughly, not wanting the smell of firing to clue her father into her rule breaking. As she finished up in the refresher, she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be so difficult to get some form of sniper training in, if Bail wasn’t off at school. At least he could have taken her out to shoot, even if he wasn’t a very good shot. Or a least, not good enough to teach her anything she didn’t already know.

For the past few months, her mother hadn't even been on the same planet as her, and her father had been so busy with his duties as the Mand'alor he hardly had time for anything other than work and sleep. Her mother had worried about them basically being left to their own devices all day, suggesting to her father, "Maybe they ought to spend a few months with their Uncle Luke? Just so they're not alone here."

Her father had grimaced at the idea, and Jaing had spoken up, "I'd rather be abandoned on Jaku."

Her mother had given her a look, but thankfully her father had said, "Luke has dozens of younglings to look after at his temple. Let's just keep them here."

Leia had consented on one condition. "Promise me, you three won't be living off of ration bars and protein cubes."

Boba had grinned, just slightly, "I'll try and remember to feed my children at least once a week."

Jaing shuddered a bit, remembering the disgusting bowl of what her father claimed was Ahrisa, but was nothing like it in either taste or texture. Rojee had squinted at his, smacked it with his spoon a few times, sniffed at it, and then looked up at Boba. "Buir, did you remember to use milk?"

"We're out of milk, I used water." Their father answered. "It tastes the same."

Rojee and Jaing looked at each other, had a brief contest of rock, paper, vibroblade, which Jaing had lost. Jaing took one bite of her father's attempt at baking, and promptly spit it out. "I want a ration bar."

Boba grunted, retrieving the box of ration bars from the pantry. "Don't tell your mother."

After changing into a fresh set of clothes and brushing her curly black hair free of knots, Jaing walked into the living room just in time to see Rojee hauling a jug of cooking oil back into the kitchen. Jaing opened her mouth to try and explain he was supposed to use the mechanical oil from their Buir's workshop, but stopped herself when the door to their home opened, a tired looking Boba walking through with a small bag in his arms that Jaing assumed to contain their dinner.

"Buir?" Rojee called, rushing out of the kitchen to greet his father.

Boba smiled, reaching down with one hair to ruffle Rojee's already messy blonde hair. Jaing caught his eye and smiled in greeting, "Buir."

Boba walked past them both, towards the kitchen with the bag still in his grip. Rojee kept pace beside him, starting to babble about his day before cutting himself off, "Buir what's for dinner?"

Boba hummed, as if in thought, and then said, "Why don't you ask your mother?"

Jaing, confused, reached out with the force, grinning when she felt her mother's presence outside, approaching. She walked to the front door, opening it as Leia walked inside. "Mom!"

Leia and Jaing quickly hugged each other, and Rojee abandoned following his father around the kitchen to instead latch onto one of Leia's legs. "MAMA! Buir said you wouldn't be back until next week!"

Leia grinned, reaching down to hug Rojee properly. "The slavers bent earlier than expected."

"So slavery is finished on Tatooine?" Jaing asked, a sinking feeling in her gut that it wasn't so cut and dry.

"They all have to stop within the next three years." Leia explained. "They said they needed time for the economy to adjust so it didn't collapse. We expected them to push for five years, but they quickly accepted the three year timeline."

Jaing glanced over to her father who had taken out a slab of meat from the bag he had brought home. He met her gaze, only briefly, but Jaing knew the same concern was shared. The slavers accepted it quickly because they had no intention of holding up their end of the deal. She wondered if her mother had the same suspicion, or if years of trying to rally support and months of arguing with Tatooine politicians and warlords had made her tired enough to accept the false finish line.

"Mama, what's for dinner?" Rojee asked.

Leia grinned, "Oh, not much, just picked up a few things to make Alderaan stew."

Rojee threw both of his fists into the air, jumping up and shouting, "YES! Mom I'm so glad you're home!"

Leia cast a glance at Boba, a sly look in her eyes, like she has a suspicion that was just affirmed. Boba looked away quickly, “They haven’t been starving. Just yesterday I made them Ahrisa.”

“More like ration bars in the shape of Ahrisa.” Rojee sassed.

Jaing rolled her eyes as her father gave Rojee that look only fathers could give their children. That look worked on Bail, and her most of the time, but never Rojee. Rojee, who had been the son of a pair of smugglers who had crashed onto Mandalore when Rojee was only five. Even if he had only been five, he had likely seen more darkness with his birth parents than either Jaing or Bail had seen in their lives so far. Rojee, who seemed to never know when to stop pestering or teasing. Even if repeated fights with his friends in their town left him with bruises and scrapes that ached him for days after his friends had enough of his teasing.

Their family settled into their comfortable and familiar routine of preparing dinner, Rojee setting the table, while Jaing and their father worked on the side dish, and their mother tended the stew. Alderaan stew was traditionally eaten mostly by itself, but their family had somewhat tweaked the recipe to being served on a plate over rice, similar to a traditional Mandalorian dish called Tiingilar. Also, straying from the traditional Alderaan recipe, this stew had more vegetables than it did meat.

Once her father was satisfied Jaing had washed the rice thoroughly, he took over cooking, allowing Jaing to go help her brother with setting the table. They had almost finished, the utensils still in Rojee’s hands when there came a knock at the door. Jaing grunted in annoyance at the same time as her father did, much to Leia’s amusement. Jaing walked back out into the living room, yanking her breastplate and helmet on over her head where they were stowed on the rack near the front door, before opening the door to reveal another Mandalorian teenager, only slightly taller than Jaing. She recognized him immediately from his dark red breastplate and mostly silver helmet, the visor framed with the same red color.

“Din.” She said shortly.

“Jaing.” He responded. A moment of silence passed, neither seemed willing to break it, but Din finally did. He held up a small basket in his hands, handing it over to Jaing. “My Buir told me to bring this over.”

Jaing took the basket, glancing inside to see a small uj’alayi cake. She couldn’t help perking up a bit, memories of the last time she had a slice of it putting her in a much better mood. “Tell him thank you for us, would you?”

Din gave a small nod, and another moment of silence passed. Jaing was half inclined to shut the door in his face, but knew her mother would scold her for being rude if she did. “Was there something else?”

“Paz intends to challenge you to a match at the festival.” Din admitted.

Jaing rolled her eyes, though Din couldn’t see it under her helmet. “And?”

“He’s still angry at you.” Din added.

“And after I shove his face into the dirt, he can be angry some more.” Jaing waved off. “Why are you bothering to tell me this? You suddenly in the business of gossiping?”

“Because I want to challenge you to a match at the festival.” Jaing paused at that, taking in the new information. If someone was challenged to a fight at the yearly festival of Mandalore, they were expected to accept. Turning down a match was seen as disrespectful, and was only supposed to be done if the one being challenged had an injury. If someone was challenged to two or more matches, they had the option of either only accepting one, or, if the challengers agreed, turn it into a three way match. “And I’m not interested in fighting Paz.”

“Again?” Jaing prompted.

“Again.” Din admitted. Jaing had witnessed multiple fights between the two teenage boys. Paz had a way of pushing other’s buttons, and accusing people of cowardly or dishonorable actions that were nothing of the sort. Some would say Paz had high standards of what it meant to be Mandalorian. Jaing would say he was a snob who needed to have his ass kicked regularly to make him behave.

“Noted.” Jaing said. “Anything else?”

“No-”

Jaing shut the door, returning to the kitchen with the cake. Rojee almost squealed when he saw her set in on the table, and Leia perked up from her slowly cooked stew. “Who was that?”

“Din.” Jaing said plainly. She did look at her mother, knowing she would grin at the name. Leia liked Din. She found him polite and respectful.

Rojee smirked, looking up at his sister, “Ooooh, Din?”

Jaing removed her helmet, giving Rojee a glare which he responded to with kissing noises, before launching into song. “Din and Jaing, on a spaceship, K-I-” Rojee ducked under his sisters wild swipe at his head, dropping to the ground and tumbling under the table to get some distance between them.

“Ade!” Their Buir snapped. “Enough. Jaing, armor off before dinner. Rojee, enough pestering, or you can run laps from dusk till dawn.”

Jaing immediately turned to go back into the living room, Rojee standing back up and brushing himself off. “Yes, Buir.” They chorused.

“That was nice of Din, bringing us a little treat.” Leia said sweetly. Jain grunted, knowing her mother was trying to prompt her to talk about Din.

“His Buir sent it over.” She shot down.

“Oh, well it was nice of both of them.” Leia insisted. “We should send them something, as a thank you.”

“Just thank them at the festival.” Boba waved off.

Leia rolled her eyes, “Boba, be a good neighbor.”

“I am.” Boba countered. “I’m minding my own business.”

“Unlike the Djarins, who see your ship land, and start being nosey.” Jaing added, taking off her armor and placing it on the rack by the door.

“Jaing!” Leia snapped. “They were being nice!”

“Nosey.” Jaing corrected, then altered her voice to do her best impression of Din’s Buir. “Take this over to that weird house with the force users and rebel leader, tell me if you see anything floating.”

Leia gave her a pointed look. Jaing decided to drop the subject.

Soon, dinner was ready and the four of them sat down to their stew. Leia and Boba talked about the festival coming up, about Leia’s next moves with the New Republic, and Mandalore’s position on such things. Leia was the representative of Mandalore in the New Republic Senate, although the leader of Mandalore, The Mand’alor, was Boba. Their… unique marriage granted both of them certain liberties. Boba didn’t have to deal with the senate anymore than simple conversations with his wife, and Leia was able to rejoin the New Republic Senate after the scandal that occurred with the galaxy finding out she was the daughter of Darth Vader, and the survivors of Alderaan decided they did not want her representing them on the senate.

Leia always told that story with a slight edge in her voice, like she was still bitter about it after all the years that had passed. Jaing often noticed her mother’s tone changing and words getting shorter and sharper whenever the very small nation of Alderaan came up in conversation. Jaing supposed that although her mother wore no armor, and had been sworn to no creed, Leia embodied what belonging to the Mandalorians was about. Being abandoned or cast out by one’s own society, taken in by the mixed culture of Mandalore, and then becoming fiercely protective of it. She had seen a few broadcasts over the HoloNet of her mother in meetings at the New Republic Senate, her quick wit and sharp tone demolishing anyone who spoke out against Mandalore, or the new Jedi Order.

Though Jaing had no intentions of ever being involved in politics, she couldn’t help but admire her mother’s performance in them. It was almost like watching a fight, of words only, that still cut an enemy down. She had mentioned that to her mother once, and Leia had shaken her head. “Most of them aren’t enemies, my ad’ika. We just disagree… passionately.”

Dinner passed without much incident, until Rojee looked over at the empty seat Bail had once occupied. “I miss ori’vod.”

There was a slightly bitter silence that settled over them, then. Leia hadn’t exactly encouraged her son to take up the path of the Jedi, but had made it clear he had to make his own choices. Boba had made his opinions of the Jedi very clear, and none of them were good. However, he had echoed the sentiment that Bail’s life was his own, and his path was his to choose. Jaing, had not been so sentimental.

“The Jedi teach their padawans that they aren’t allowed to have familial attachments, or attachments of any kind outside the Jedi Order.” Jaing remembered telling Bail bitterly. “Why you would run off to an order that teaches you to abandon your family, that is a riddle that I doubt I’ll ever solve.”

Despite her brother’s responses that Luke didn’t teach that anymore, and that he would always be her ori’vod, Jaing had merely waved him off. “Make no promises to me. The future will always tell me the truth.”

“We all miss him.” Leia said softly. “He won’t be gone forever, he’ll still visit.”

“When he’s not too busy swinging a light stick around and frolicking in the meadows with his other Jedi friends.” Jaing said.

Leia frowned, “He’s training to get stronger, to become a Jedi Knight, and to assist the New Republic in it’s more combative issues.”

“I know.” Rojee said sadly. “I just miss him… do you think he’s eating dinner, now?”

“Probably.” Jain said, spooning the last mouthful of her stew into her open jaws. “But he’s probably not as lucky as us. He’s probably snacking on raw plants and dirt with his wizard monk friends.”

Rojee couldn’t help but laugh at that, “Do you think he’s eating worms, too?”

“Absolutely.” Jaing smirked.


	2. Hunting Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we look a little closer into Boba's relationship with his wife and daughter.

Boba was used to being the first one awake in his home. His morning routine usually started with sliding out of bed carefully, so as to not wake his wife, and heading to the kitchen to brew a pot of caffe for the both of them. As the machine does it’s job, Boba steps out into his backyard. He glances over to the empty flower beds that framed his back porch, remembering when Leia had first moved in with him, and had insisted on filling them with flowers. Boba hadn’t minded the idea, nor had he minded the afternoons they had spent kneeling in the dirt, digging into the earth together, plucking weeds and planting the seeds Leia had insisted would grown into beautiful flowers. He remembers leaning over and kissing her when she was distracted with a particularly stubborn weed, and how her face had lit up in happiness from the simple gesture. Her face had quickly contorted into rage when he smeared two fingers across her nose, leaving a dark smudge of dirt.

He chuckles to himself in the early light of dawn, remembering how she had tackled him to the ground with two fists full of dirt, smearing it over his face, neck, shirt, everywhere she could reach.

Shaking himself from the memories of their early marriage, he begins his morning run. By the time he’s done, and walks back into the kitchen, Leia is awake. She’s freshly showered, and pouring herself and him each a cup of caffe. He walks up behind her as she sits down at their kitchen table, and leans down to kiss the top of her head.

“Good morning.” Leia says softly.

“Morning.” Boba responds, settling down next to her as she slides him his caffe.

They sit in comfortable silence until the front door opening and then being slammed shut grabs their attention. Jaing walked past in her full armor, streaked in mud from the top of her helmet to the tips of her boots. Leia’s eyes widened, “Ja-”

“I’m killing Rojee.” Jaing bit out, stalking past the kitchen and into the refresher.

Boba sighed, waiting until the front door opened again and Rojee walked in, gently closing the door behind him. As Rojee had yet to be gifted his armor, he was simply in trousers and a shirt, and every inch of him was soaked in mud. “Mama?”

Leia stood up, walking over to Rojee and fussing over him. “Rojee, what happened?”

“Jaing said she’d take me hunting.” Rojee answered. “She told me to stay quiet, but I tripped and yelled. So a herd of critters rushed us and we had to roll down a hill to get away… there was mud at the bottom.”

Boba shook his head gently, forcing himself not to laugh at the image of his two youngest rolling into the mud to avoid a stampede.

Leia guides Rojee into their room to use their refresher, helping him peel his clothes off. Boba busies himself with the broom, then the mop, making sure no trace of the mud traced in by his spawn is left on the floor. Boba hears Jaing exit the refresher, and carry her armor into his workroom, likely to clean it.

Boba puts his cleaning supplies away, and goes to join her. “Rough fall?”

“Don’t know why I bother with that kid.” Jaing says harshly. Boba had come to expect that attitude from Jaing, her being sixteen, her age almost required spouts of anger. Boba can remember being her age, with many more reasons to be angry, and he has to remind himself that it was best to let teenagers snap and lash out on occasion, as long as they didn’t take it too far. “He doesn’t listen, and ruins everything, so why should I bother taking that overgrown baby anywhere?”

“Gotta learn somehow.” Boba says calmly, sitting down next to his middle child as she scrubs the mud and grime out of her armor. “Next time you tell him to be quiet, he’ll remember how tumbling down a cliff and into a mudhole feels, and he’ll listen.”

“He better.” Jaing says, finishing the cleaning of her chestplate and setting it aside. Something must settle in her mind, something calming, because the tension leaves her shoulders, and the anger leaves her tone. “Paz is gonna challenge me at the festival.”

Boba grunts, not surprised. His daughter and Paz have never gotten along, and with age, a bitterness has settled between them. Boba doesn’t think he minds Paz, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s got a big head, to be sure, but that was common among teenage boys. Boba was sure that once he put a few more years on, that chip on his shoulder would fall off, and the edge in his tone would soften. What he was actually concerned about was his daughter’s near inability to make friends. Regardless if it was a rude teen like Paz, or a respectful one like Din, she never seemed to take much of a liking to anyone.

It’s been the cause of a few worried discussions between him, Leia, and to his displeasure, Luke. Boba maintained that Jaing would make friends when she wanted them, and they couldn’t force her to make any, so why bother? Leia wasn’t satisfied with that idea, saying that a child with no friends would be lonely once their family was gone. Luke had piped up in that conversation, putting in his two cents about how Jaing was their only child who didn’t seem to have much of a plan for her life. Bail wanted to be a Jedi Knight, Rojee wanted to join the Rebellion, but Jaing never spoke much of the future beyond what the next few days would bring. “A few months with us at the temple might give her some spiritual enlightenment, set her on a better path-”

“She goes to your cult over my dead body.” Boba had growled out. “One of my kids chooses the path of a Jedi, fine. But I’m not shipping them off one by one against their will to be indoctrinated into it.”

Leia had been angry with him after that, but he hadn’t cared. Bail running off with Luke had been bad enough. Jaing, the child he named in honor of his father, that was something Boba didn’t think he would be able to handle.

“Din wants to fight me too.” Jaing continued.

Boba nodded in understanding of the situation Jaing was in. “What will you do?”

“Not sure.” Jaing admitted. “Din doesn’t want to fight Paz.”

“What do you want?” Boba asked.

“Paz a full system away from me would be nice.” Jaing said, scrubbing carefully at the mud caked around her visor. “I don’t really like catering to him, so I don’t care much if I disrespect him by turning down his challenge.”

“And as long as Din follows through with his challenge, you’re able to deny Paz without losing face.” Boba finished.

“Yeah.” Jaing said, giving her helmet a final once over.

Boba glanced at her helmet, the green that matched his own with the blue streak down the middle, surrounding the visor. Her first full set of armor, she had insisted on painting it herself, and insisted the colors reflect her lineage. He remembers when she asked him what her grandfather’s armor had been painted, and seemed disappointed that it was mostly plain, with only a touch of blue on the helmet. She had come home with blue and green paint the next day, choosing a fusion of both her father’s and grandfather’s colors.

Jaing sets her helmet down, picking her boots up to clean them next. “But I don’t really wanna do Din any favors, either. I could refuse both, but that just makes me look like a karking sheb-”

Boba’s hand snapped out, smacking Jaing on the back of the head. Not as hard as he could have, but enough that she rocked forward, one arm rushing to cover the back of her head, like she expected him to hit her again. He never understood why she would, as he never hit his kids twice. One thump to the back of the head got his message across.

Jaing glanced over at him, lowering her arm slowly. “Sorry, Buir.”

“I don’t care if you cuss around your friends, but you clean your mouth up at home.” Boba says firmly.

“Yes, Buir.” Jaing says quickly.

Boba leaned back in his chair, relaxing, and Jaing did the same, focusing on cleaning the rest of her armor. “So, other than choosing who to fight, what are your plans for the festival?”

Jaing shrugged, “Eat, I guess. Din’s Buir is making his version of Tiingilar again, and I wanna get a bowl or two before everyone else polishes his pot clean.”

Boba paused, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t. “I heard a group of younglings, about your age, are planning on breaking off from the group after dinner and having their own smaller party. You go to school with them, I’m sure.”

“Good for them.” Jaing said plainly.

“Neither me or your mother would mind if you went along.” Boba tried again.

“They’re breaking away from the main party to go drink in the woods.” Jaing explained. “Danx Krarr managed to get his hands on a barrel of Ne'tra gal, and they hid it in the woods last week.”

Boba paused, taking that information in. “Well… I still wouldn’t mind if you went, Jaing.”

Jaing set her last bit of armor down, looking at Boba. “... Is something wrong? You’re never this pushy.”

Boba hesitated, something he normally didn’t do, but with teenagers you had to tread a careful line between concern and control. “Your mother and I are just a bit worried… you don’t get out much, don’t seem to spend any time with kids your own age-”

“Because they’re awful.” Jaing interrupted.

“They can’t all be awful.” Boba tried to reason with her.

“You don’t go to school with them three days a week.” Jaing refuted, standing up and collecting her armor in her arms. “They’re awful. Loud, annoying, and dumb.”

Boba nodded, opening the door for her and following her out into the living room. “Still, you should get out a bit more. Even if it’s not with kids your own age. Younger, older, just… someone.”

Jaing frowned as she set her armor on the rack by their front door. “Why?”

“It’s good to have friends.” Boba said simply. “Someone else, besides your family.”

“But you always say family is everything.” Jaing pointed out.

“Well… almost everything.” Boba amended.

Jaing seemed to pause, taking her father’s serious tone into consideration. “I’ll think about it.”

Boba knew that was the best he was going to get today. “Good. Now… I’ve got some time to kill before heading over to the festival grounds this afternoon. Why don’t you and I go see if that stampede is still nearby?”

Jaing perked up. “Can we take the rifle?”

Boba picked up his armor, starting the process of putting it on. “Sure. Grab it for me, would you?”

Jaing had her armor on in record time, her boots thumping noisily on the floor as she rushed off to retrieve his rifle. Leia came out of the refresher with their son, freshly cleaned and wrapped in a towel, with his dirty clothes in Leia’s arms. She raised an eyebrow at him standing there in his armor, but when Jaing walked in with his rifle, she understood.

“Should I have lunch ready?” She asked.

“If you’re inclined.” Boba said.

“We’ve got enough stew left over.” Leia offered. “Unless that’s too heavy?”

“Sounds good.” Boba said, walking over and ruffling Rojee’s hair and kissing Leia on the cheek before putting his helmet on.

Jaing followed him out the door, the rifle slung across her back as she trotted alongside her father. “If we catch something, do we eat it tonight, or take it to the festival tomorrow?”

“Festival.” Boba answered. “Your mother wants to make ruica flatbread for dinner.”

Jaing gagged, and Boba rolled his eyes. “A bit old to still be opposed to vegetables, aren’t you?”

Jaing muttered something under her breath, and Boba turned, “Something you’d like to share?”

Jaing paused, and Boba thought maybe she’d drop it, but her wants outweighed her nerves. “... Everyone else in my class is allowed to go shooting alone.”

Ah, so that was it. Boba was about to give his typical rehearsed response of ‘really, everyone?’ but something stopped him. A certain tone of need in his daughter’s voice, mixed with sorrow. She was sixteen, after all, he had to remind himself. He was running around with his own blaster by ten, even if he didn’t have much of a choice. And while Jaing had her own blaster, two of them, actually, she wasn’t allowed to touch them without Boba present. Some kids Jaing’s age were already engaged, but she still wasn’t trusted with her own guns?

“I’ll make you a deal.” Boba said calmly. Jaing perked up. “If you go to the party with your classmates, you can go shooting and hunting by yourself.”

“Deal.” Jaing said happily.

“Alright then.” Boba said, turning back to the forest trail he and Jaing frequented. “Let’s get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me FOREVER to find the right swear words for this chapter god damn.
> 
> Also writing Boba as a concerned father, not for his kids physical well being, but her social and emotional well being is... ugh it's so soft and fluffy I love this Boba.


	3. Fights and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we have Jaing doing a lot of introspection and realizing she's a bit odd. Also some ceremonial sparring.

The day of the festival, Boba had woken up a bit later than usual. He allowed himself another hour of sleep, only because he knew the festival would go on well into the night, and he didn’t have the ability he once had as a younger man to be able to engage with others all night without proper sleep the night before. Leia rolled over in the last few minutes of sleep, reaching out for him and cuddling into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer and felt his breathing relax as he did. She had a way of drawing out a calmer side of him, a nicer side, that Boba wasn’t sure how she found beneath all the layers of aggression and bitterness the galaxy had left him with.

When the alarm goes off, and Boba shuts it down, moving to get up, Leia’s grip tightens on him. Her face scrunches up, and she childishly wines, “Don’t leave.”

Boba kissed her forehead, distracting her enough to wiggle out of her hold. “You should be getting up too, ya know.”

Leia grunts, managing to get into a sitting position while Boba made his way into the refresher. By the time he gets out, she’s finally out of bed, stretching and getting ready for the long day ahead. After a quick breakfast, Leia sets about combing Rojee’s hair so it’s not quite so messy, despite all his efforts to make her abandon the idea.

Jaing has already groomed herself for the day, and is sitting cross legged on the floor of the living room, going over her armor with a dry cloth to remove any smudge or dirt. She’s even got a lighter in her hand, burning off any stray threads she finds on the underside of the armor.

Once they’re ready and Leia has pronounced Rojee’s hair officially tangle free, they walk to the festival. Mandalore doesn’t exactly have what Leia or Boba would call big cities, as most people prefer living far enough away from each other that they weren’t living on top of each other. There were villages and small towns, sure, but no huge cities with towering skyscrapers or giant temples. They had stores, hangars, had large lots of farmland, but no giant shopping malls. Everything on Mandalore had a simple, small town feel to it. Boba enjoyed it immensely, as did Leia. He hadn’t expected her to, not when she had grown up in a palace, but she was always full of surprises.

The festival grounds consisted of many long tables, small cooking fires dotted here and there, and one large, unlit bonfire in the center. Boba reached the cooking pit near the head table, the one he and other leaders of Mandalore would sit with their families. There, he unloads the kill his ad’ika has shot with his rifle, and he and Leia set about cooking it.

Some of the other adults, notably, the armorers, are setting about drawing the lines for the fighting circle. One large circle, with blessings in Mando’a written in the dirt. Anyone can be challenged to a fight by anyone, though it’s frowned upon to challenge more than one person per festival. Most use it to settle grudges made throughout the year, or to simply bond with an old friend in a sparring match.

Sometimes the matches are between two seasoned warriors, and are usually over within seconds. Sometimes, they’re between two or more squabbling children, and Boba has seen one of those matches last over twenty minutes, neither of the fuming children admitting defeat or able to pin the other effectively, and eventually their Buirs had both stepped in to drag their protesting children off of each other.

Jaing has been challenged to matches over the years, as has Bail. Rojee hadn’t been challenged to any, seeing as he got into fights every other day, his companions likely didn’t see the need to do it on a festival day. Boba can remember the pride he felt as his first child entered his very first challenged match, held his own sufficiently, and had managed to pin the other boy beneath him, stopping the match.

Bail hadn’t been challenged too many times after that, and when it did happen, it was usually by girls trying to get his attention. Jaing, on the other hand, seemed to get challenged every single festival. Sometimes by Paz, or others in her age group. Boba wasn’t sure why, as even if Jaing was anti-social, he never caught her antagonizing others, or speaking poorly about them publicly. He shrugged it off as her being the child of the Mand’alore. Of course those her own age would want to measure their strength against the ad’ika of their culture’s leader.

Rojee rushes off to join their friends as quickly as he can, and Jaing busies herself with assisting her parents prepare their share of the festival’s feast. Once the circle is done, and most are at a stopping point with their cooking, the head Armorer, a woman with a golden helmet and red armor, with a fur pelt around her shoulders, stands in the center. She says a short prayer in Mando'a, and then steps aside, letting anyone come forward to challenge who they wish.

Boba isn’t shocked as Paz pushes forward past those older than him to claim the first challenge. He stands in the circle, locking eyes with Jaing, and saying confidently, “I challenge Jaing, of clan Fett.”

Leia’s head jerks to look at Boba as Din steps into the circle after Paz, “I second a challenge to Jaing, of clan Fett.”

“I thought he liked Jaing?” Leia whispered to Boba.

“He definitely does.” Boba said, slightly unhappy about that. “That’s why he’s giving her an escape from Paz this year.”

Jaing steps into the circle, not even looking at Paz as she locks Din in her sights. “I accept the challenge from Din, of clan Djarin.”

Paz tenses as she does this, pointing an accusing finger at her, “Coward! A true Mandalorian would fight us both.”

“Jealous?” Jaing asks, a taunt in her tone that sets Paz off more. “I’ve fought you at the last three festivals, Vizsla. It’s getting a bit pathetic at this point, don’t you think?”

“I think,” Paz bit out, “That the child of the Mand’alore should have more honor than to turn down any challenge.”

“It’s her right when challenged by more than one.” Din said sharply.

Paz whirled then, getting a bit too close to Din for a casual conversation. “No one asked your opinion, Bantha Fodder!”

The armorer spoke up then, her quick order of, “Enough.” halting all three teenagers in their tracks. “Paz Vizsla, step out.”

Paz stormed off, shoving past others who had crowded around to watch the fight. Boba noticed Paz’s Buir trailing after him, an angry stride reassuring Boba that the Vizsla boy would at least be disciplined.

The Armorer gives a nod, and the two teenagers square their shoulders, falling into practiced stances that speak volumes about the training their Buir’s have beaten into them. Din’s Buir was from the death watch faction, Boba knew. Their skills in combat were nothing to underestimate, and their stances were wide, but not as wide as a Heavy Infantry Mandalorian’s would be. Jaing, as Boba has taught her, has a more narrow stance, and stays on her toes, unlike Din’s firmly planted feet. It lets her be faster, something she needs when fighting her bigger, male opponents. It’s something Boba admittedly picked up from Aurra Sing, during their brief time together.

Jaing moves first, something Boba expected. She strikes out with a jab, and Din side stepped her easily. He moved to grab her arm, but true to her fighting style, she was out of his reach before he could get a proper grip, and jerked a leg up to kick his knee. It landed, but not solidly enough to do anything. Din shifts his footing, moving to tackle, and Jaing shifts her stance, ready to counter. As he lunges forward, she crouches lower, waiting until he’s upon her to grab him by the shoulders and drive her knee into his helmet.

The shock of impact rattles them both, Din ending up on the ground with Jaing on top of him, but before she can twist around to secure a hold, Din has flipped them both and sits, straddling her waist. Jaing puts up her arms to guard her face and upper chest from any blows, which Din begins to rain down upon her. The boy is strong, and he can almost here Jaing’s grunts of pain, even with most of the blows landing on her armor. As Din is preoccupied with his assault, he doesn’t notice when she hooks her ankle around his, and drives her opposite knee up sharply, causing Din to fall forward into her grip. Before Din can react, she’s thrusting her hips up and rolling to the side, Din falling onto his back.

Jaing is still between his legs, and Din is quick to wrap his legs around her and hold her as best he can, his own arms going up to guard his head from any punches Jaing might throw. Instead, she pulls her arms up, joining her hands together and driving her elbow as hard as she can into his inner thigh.

Din’s reaction is instant, his leg shooting out and releasing their grip on Jaing, who immediately climbs up his body to sit on his waist. “Yield.” She bites out.

“Not that quickly.” Din insists, sitting up slightly to throw a few wild punches at her. She deflects most with her forearms, the armor there absorbing most of the blows. She gets further up on Din’s chest, scooting inch by inch. Finally, she grabs one of his arms as he goes to punch her, trapping it in her grip as one of her feet comes up next to Din’s head, planted firmly as she allows herself to fall to the side. Din, realizing what she’s about to do, tries to grab onto his own hand with his opposite one, but one swift kick to his elbow from Jaing stops that attempt.

Din is on the ground, his arm stretches across Jaing’s body, and her legs across his chest, as she leans back, bending his arm the wrong way, slowly, ever so slowly, to make the pain set in long before she’s in danger of snapping his elbow. Din holds out long enough to not look like a coward, but not long enough to look like a fool. His hand taps her thigh quickly, “I yield.”

Jaing releases his arm, pulling her legs back and standing up before reaching down to help him rise as well. As Din stands, they each grasp each other’s right forearm, a brief shake, and then release. Leia lets out a sigh of relief, knowing that gesture is a friendly one, and her desire to see Jaing with a friend may finally come true.

Jaing returns to her family, wiping some dirt from her shoulders. “I miss anything?”

Leia glances over to where Rojee had been with his friends, frowning when she realizes his group has run off. “Well, your brother is gone.”

“He’ll be back.” Jaing waves off.

Leia clicks her tongue, not happy. “I wish he wouldn’t do that so much. If we never know where he’s going, how would we ever know if he got kidnapped?”

“Don’t worry.” Boba said, only slightly joking. “They’d bring him back within a few hours.”

Jaing snorts, the image of Rojee annoying his captors into releasing him nearly causing a giggle. “He’s probably just trying to track down a bird nest. You know he likes eggs.”

The festival continues, more matches happening until it’s nearly dark out, and the feast is ready. Usually, Mandalorians from the True Mandalorian faction did not remove their helmets in public, but at a festival only allowed to be attended by sons and daughters of Mandalore, they made an exception. Boba remembers a time before they returned to their home planet when no such exceptions would ever be made, when everyone walked around with one hand on their blaster. In the near two decades since he had become Mand’alore, some cultural traditions had relaxed a bit. Mostly for the festivals, as a long forgotten sense of comradery between the factions was slowly forged. Everyone dug into the food, and Jaing was able to help herself to a bowl of Tiingilar, made by Din’s Buir.

Why most families had a version of Tiingilar, personal recipes passed down from generation to generation, the Tiingilar made by the Djarin clan was the spiciest Jaing had ever tasted. Most Mandalorian food was spicy, to the point where her Uncle Luke had to live off ration bars when he came to visit, but the Djarin clan had several spices they grew themselves that had been selectively bred for years to be as spicy as possible. Every bite their Tiingilar felt like an explosion inside Jaing’s mouth, and she savored the sensation, eating every bit of the stew in her bowl, licking the sauce from her spoon, and the bowl itself, even as her mother scolded her.

“Jaing, don’t be rude.” Leia fussed, trying to pry the bowl from Jaing’s grip.

“Mom, no, there’s still some sauce left!” Jaing protested, burying her face in the bowl to lap up the last bit.

Din’s Buir laughed, a deep hearty chortle that shook his whole chest. “Aw, don’t dissuade her! I wish my ad’ika was this enthusiastic about my cooking.”

Jaing perked up, having polished her bowl clean. “Is there any more?”

He shook his head, “Afraid not, there was a line at my table before I even started cooking. Next festival, I’ll have to make double… or, you could just come over for dinner sometime.”

Jaing paused, weighing the decision. She’d have to spend an evening eating outside of her home, and socializing with people who weren’t her family, but… she would get a pot of Tiingilar that she would only have to share with two other people.

“Hmm… if I’m ever invited.” She compromised.

She picked her bowl up again, walking off to her family’s table to get a helping of her father’s slow cooked meat. His sauce was spicy, to be sure, but nowhere near as much as the Djarin’s.

As the sun dips below the horizon, Jaing notices a few people her age who she recognizes from school make their way to the edge of the forest, disappearing into the trees. Glancing over at her father, he gives her a pointed look, and she begrudgingly puts her helmet back on, and follows them.

Din had noticed her start to leave, and quickly realized she must be going to the party he had heard about in school. Din mumbled a quick explanation to his Buir, and once Jaing’s name left his lips, his Buir grinned. “Ah, yes, by all means, go spend some time with that Fett girl.”

Din shrugged off the teasing tone and followed Jaing to the edge of the woods, calling out to her when he was close enough. Jaing turned to watch him as he jogged to catch up. “Djarin.”

“Fett.” He acknowledged. “Didn’t think you would go to something like this.”

“I made a deal, unfortunately.” Jaing admitted. “Why are you going? I’ve never heard of you going to parties.”

Din hesitated, trying to come up with a different reason than ‘because I saw you going’. “First time for everything, I suppose.”

Jaing turns, walking again towards the clearing where they can both see a small fire, freshly lit, and figures around it. They walk into the group, blending in more than Jaing expected too. As they approach, a girl named Ria hands them each a metal tankard of ne’tra gal, before turning to refill her cup tankard, chugging the liquid down.

Jaing removes her helmet, bringing the cup to her lips and sniffing at it before taking a drink. It’s sweeter than she expected, having mostly heard that alcohol was bitter and sharp. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised though, as recipes made by her people are always either deliciously spicy or incredibly sweet.

It’s easy enough to sip at her tankard until it’s about halfway done, listening to another Mandalorian in yellow and orange armor, Treck, play a lively song on a string instrument. Some of the others have started dancing, a few doing a traditional jig involving punching the one next to you at certain beats of the music. Others are doing less traditional dances, particularly teens Jaing knows are from families belonging to the New Mandalorians.

Din is drinking too, but by the time Jaing finishes her tankard and fills it, he’s still only halfway done with his first. “Don’t like it?”

Din shrugs. “I’ve had it before. Buir lets me drink at home, with dinner, of course. So I’m not that into drinking.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, and Jaing watches her fellow classmates, realizing that for most of them, all she knows is their name and family faction. She’s known them for most of her life, as school was something her mother insisted was to never be missed. There’s an air of familiarity between her classmates, smiles, claps on the back, even a few drunken hugs, that Jaing would never feel comfortable receiving from anyone outside of her family. The reality of her parents’ worry settles into her mind, as she begins to realize why they worried about her lack of friends so much. It wasn’t normal. Normal, even in a culture as abnormal as Jaing had come to learn her’s was, meant having friends. It meant sneaking out to parties, and dancing. It meant being comfortable with someone you had known all your life touching your shoulder, or patting your back.

Jaing stares down at the bottom of her, once again, empty tankard, and realizes for the first time, she was not normal.

“Din.”

He turns to look at her, his brown eyes curious. “Yes?”

“Do you have friends?” Jaing asked.

“... Yes. Why?” Din probed.

“Just curious.” Jaing said quietly. She refilled her tankard again, and Din frowned, concerned.

“Are you sure you should-”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Jaing snapped, taking a few strong gulps of her third ne'tra gal.

“I just… don’t want you to get so drunk you can’t walk.” Din said softly.

Jaing was silent, sipping on the rest of her drink slowly, as she started to feel light headed and a bit dizzy. Din seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything. The party drifted on a few more hours, and Jaing watched as occasionally, two or even three other teenagers would wander off, deeper into the woods together, and come back within thirty minutes, hair messy and a subtle limp on their walk. No one seemed to care about the semi public sex, but Jaing.

She didn’t really care they did it, it wasn’t any of her business, after all. It was more just a painful reminder that another layer of socialization was taking place that she wasn’t involved in. She flicked her holo screen on, turning it off quickly after seeing the time. The festival would be over by now, her parents and brother already home. She stood, tossing her tankard onto the ground and walking away from the part, heading through the woods towards home. She was vaguely aware of Din following after her, but she didn’t care. They lived next to each other, it’s not like she could make him leave.

Once her home came into view, her helmet picked up a ship nearby that was familiar, not not usually welcome. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the visitor. Din, behind her, asked, “Do you want to stay at my house for the night?”

“No.” Jaing said. “But… thank you for the offer.”

Din nodded, turning and heading towards his home, leaving Jaing outside to work up the patience to see her Uncle.

Walking into her home, she did her best to ignore the three voices from the kitchen as she took off her armor and set on on the rack. She heard her mother’s voice, happily say, “Oh, Jaing must be home. Jaing! Come say hello to your Uncle Luke!”

“Hello Uncle Luke.” Jaing said shortly, moving through the living room and walking down the hall to her room, not looking at the table with her parents and uncle.

“Jaing.” Her Buir said, warningly.

Jaing turned, facing her uncle with the blankest expression she could manage. “Hello, Uncle Luke.”

Luke smiled at her, “I heard someone was out late at a party! Have fun?”

“Sure.” Jaing said. “I’m tired though.” She looked at her parents, “Can I go to bed now?”

Leia frowned, sniffing the air, “Jaing, why do you smell like a cantina?”

“Buir said it was fine.” Jaing defended.

Leia looked at Boba, who sighed, “You wanted her to make friends.”

“Not with alcohol!” Leia protested.

“It’s fine, I didn’t even like it.” Jaing said. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“Well, if you go to bed, I guess you can unwrap my gift in the morning.” Luke said, a coy grin on his face.

Jaing, realizing she was being trapped into further socialization, walked fully into the kitchen. Trying to be somewhat civil, she said, “You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Well, Bail’s had one for a few years, and I figured I shouldn’t play favorites.” Luke explained, handing Jaing a cylinder shaped gift wrapped in brown paper and tied off with string.

Jaing suspected it was a lightsaber, and opened it begrudgingly. True to her theory, a lightsaber fell out of the paper and into her hand.

“It’s just a training one.” Luke said. “It’ll leave a bruise, but it won’t cut anyone’s flesh.”

“Then why,” Jaing asked with a deadly serious tone, “Would I ever want it?”

“Jaing.” Leia said firmly.

Jaing sighed, “Thank you, Uncle Luke.”

“Well, turn it on then, give it a few swings!” Luke said enthusiastically. “I know Bail left his training remote here. We can start off on a low setting-”

“I’m tired.” Jaing said again, trying to politely avoid turning the damned sword on. “Goodnight, everyone.”

Without asking for permission to sleep this time, Jaing walked off to her bedroom, barely hearing Luke’s blindly enthusiastic plans to try out the lightsaber in the morning. Jaing took the lightsaber and shoved it into the furthest corner of her closet, entirely intended to forget about it’s existence.


	4. 30,000 Credits

When Rojee woke up for breakfast that morning, he had expected a rather routine day. Jaing hadn’t come in to wake him up right before dawn, so he figured she hadn’t gone hunting this morning. Either that, or she hadn’t wanted to take him along. As he slipped out of his pajamas and into his clothing, he wondered whether she was still mad at him for the mud hole incident. Jaing was a weird sibling, in Rojee’s opinion. One moment she was patient and kind, showing him the finer points of tracking, sneaking, camouflage, and brawling. The next she was storming off from him, calling him annoying, or chasing after him to either whack him in the face, or pull him into a headlock until he apologized for whatever he had done.

For the millionth time since he left, Rojee wished Bail had stayed home. Bail didn’t know as much about fighting or hunting as Jaing did, but he would still talk to Rojee about things like the force, politics, and philosophy. Rojee could see his siblings like two different ends of a pole. Jaing, who was a perfect example of what a Mandalorian teenager should be, if a little introverted, and Bail, who Rojee was pretty certain was a perfect example of what a Jedi was supposed to be like. The only Jedi he knew was his Uncle Luke, and Bail acted fairly similarly to him. He was polite, social, kind, and could carry on a conversation over just about anything. If Rojee had to choose who to spend his time with, he’d usually pick Bail, but Jaing was a good back up in small doses. Right up until she would try to suggest survival training in the woods as a casual pass time.

Rojee, now dressed, left his room to wander into the kitchen to petition his mother for breakfast. She and his father, along with his Uncle Luke sat at the table, breakfast already on the table. They were all making casual conversation over their caf, and a plate of what looked like scrambled eggs. Rojee said his good mornings, and slid into his chair, helping himself to two big spoonfuls of the eggs, and noticed his mother had likely made them, as they lacked about half of the spicy peppers his Buir made them with. It wasn’t nearly as spicy as Jaing would have liked her breakfast, but Rojee liked it just fine.

“Is Jaing up yet?” Rojee asked, wondering if she would take him and his friends into town to see if the new speeder models were in yet. Jaing would usually humor him if he asked nicely.

“She’s probably hungover.” His mother said, a slight edge to her tone that let Rojee know that Jaing was probably in trouble. “I’ll go check on her.”

Leia poured a small cup of caf, probably for Jaing, and headed down the hall to her room. Rojee turned to his Uncle Luke, “Did you know that they’re showing off a new speeder model in town today? My friend Nurrt says they’re gonna be able to travel for longer because they designed a new cooling system.”

Luke perked up at the shift in conversation, “I wasn’t aware, but that sounds interesting. Did he say what exactly they changed about it?”

“Nope, that’s why I wanna go see. Once Jaing get’s up, I was gonna ask her to take me and my friends.” Rojee explained.

“Well, if she’s preoccupied, I’ll take you myself.” Uncle Luke offered.

“Just come along either way.” Rojee insisted, “I don’t mind.”

Leia walked back into the kitchen, the cup of caf still in her hands and a look of concern on her face. “Jaing isn’t in her room, and her blasters are gone.”

A brief moment of silence passed, before Boba spoke. “She’s probably just practicing her aim. I gave her permission to use them unsupervised.”

Leia relaxed a bit, and the family finished their breakfast, then Luke took Rojee into town along with his two friends, Nuurt and Dael. The other two boys looked at Rojee’s uncle with some curiosity, knowing he was a Jedi, a member of the Mandalorians ancient enemies, but also knowing Mandalore was on peaceful terms with the Jedi and Galactic Senate. Rojee was used to somewhat curious looks from his peers at school whenever their teachers mentioned the Jedi, so he wasn’t bothered when his friends asked a few questions to his Uncle.

“So, you’re a Jedi, right?” Nuurt asked.

Luke nodded, “That’s right.”

“So do you have a lightsaber?” Dael questioned.

Luke moved his robes to the side a bit, revealing his lightsaber tucked against his hip. “I do.”

“How do you become a Jedi?” Dael pestered.

“It takes years of training, both meditative and combative, and even philosophical.” Luke explained. “But it requires some inherent talent as well, not everyone can become a Jedi. You must be force sensitive first.”

The walk into town was filled with Nuurt and Dael badgering Luke with questions about the new Jedi Order, their place in the Galactic Senate, and questions about the training the Jedi went through. Rojee mostly tuned it out, knowing that unlike his older siblings, he had no force sensitivity and therefore, would never have the choice of going through Jedi training.

Upon viewing the new speeder and going over the provided blueprints at the showing, the mystery of the new cooling system turned out to be that the tubing the fuel traveled through wrapped around the engine several times to aid in the cooling process, making the vehicle able to travel at its maximum speed almost and hour longer than the previous model.

His curiosity sated, Rojee and his Uncle left his friends at the local hangar to wait for their parents, and headed back home. Rojee had been making a joke about Jedi eating worms, which Luke didn’t quite understand but laughed anyway for the sake of his nephew, when they walked into the house towards the kitchen. Almost immediately, Rojee knew something was wrong. His Buir was nowhere to be seen, and his mother was on her com link, speaking worriedly to someone.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen her at all? Did she send a message, or anything?... No, we haven’t seen her since last night, she was gone this morning!... Blasters gone, armor gone, a few sets of clothing gone, and no note at all. … Yes, please call me if you hear anything.” Leia turned off her com link and looked at her brother and son. “Did you two see Jaing in town?”

“No.” Luke said, walking to Leia and placing a hand on her shoulder, “Has anyone else seen her?”

“I’ve called the closest spaceport, neighbors, no one has seen her.” Leia said, her tone raising as her phone went back to her com link. “I’m gonna call her school.”

“Why would she be at school?” Rojee asked.

“I don’t know!” Leia snapped.

The back door opened and Bob walked in, pulling his helmet off as he did, a deep frown on his face. “She’s not in the woods. She’s not practicing her shooting.”

He stalked across the room and picked up a datapad on the table. Rojee walked over, standing up on his tiptoes to watch his Buir opening up a page he didn’t recognize. “What’s that?”

“Our credit accounts.” Boba said. “I’m checking Jaings to see- Kriff.”

Leia set down her comlink, “What?”

“She’s emptied her credit account, and wiped her name from it.” Boba said, slowly sitting down at the kitchen table with a tone Rojee didn’t recognize. It was almost like he was… giving up? Rojee frowned, no, couldn’t be. His Buir didn’t give up.

Leia walked over to the table, “Alright, so she’s got her weapons, all her credits, and no one has seen her… how many credits were in her account?”

Boba turn the datapad off and set his helmet down on the table. “Almost thirty thousand.”

Leia took a surprised step back, “How does she have that much money?”

“The hunts I take her on.” Boba explained. “We would usually take three or four small ones at once, and I would let her keep the profit for the smallest one. Looks like she’s been saving all of it.”

“What can she get for thirty thousand credits?” Rojee asked.

“A decent enough starship.” Boba said. “Enough fuel to get far enough in the outer rim. Those blasters of hers are decent enough for bounty hunter work-”

“Stop.” Leia said quietly.

“She’s not helpless.” Boba said. “She’s been bounty hunting with me for years, she’ll be okay.”

“She didn’t even leave a note.” Leia said, sitting down at the table and putting her face in her hands. “She didn’t… even…”

Rojee watched helplessly as his mother started crying. He looked to his Buir, still seeing that look of resignation on his face. He turned to Uncle Luke, “Jaing can’t- she can’t leave!”

Uncle Luke looked a bit uncomfortable, “Well, ya know, Rojee, she’s sixteen, and the age of adulthood on Mandalore is thirteen. She’s allowed to leave-”

“No.” Rojee said firmly. “She can’t leave, if she leaves- if she leaves, it’s just me, and-”

Rojee felt his shoulders shake as a painful sob raked his chest. He felt a hand on his shoulders and looked up to see his Buir standing next to him. “Just breathe, Rojee.”

Rojee sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve before launching himself at his Buir and wrapping his arms around his middle. “Buir, I want ori-vod.”

“She’ll be fine.” Was all Boba could say to his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a really short chapter, I know. I just didn't want to continue any further or add any more fluff to the chapter to space it out. I'll try to get the next one out in a few days.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, first chapter done, can't wait until the next!!! Bail is obviously named after Leia's adoptive father. Jaing is a more feminine version of Jango, and even though Mandoa isn't a gendered language, I didn't feel that just naming her Jango was right. Rojee is a foundling, and wasn't named by Boba or Leia, so I didn't give much thought to his name.


End file.
